


Yellow Light Special

by slipgoingunder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Power Exchange, Praise Kink, SO, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Waffle House, Waffles, but lots of talking about it, gratuitous waffle smut, mentions of being in a kink club, no Waffle House bathroom was defiled in the writing of this, no actual smut y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipgoingunder/pseuds/slipgoingunder
Summary: All Waffle Houses are special. But there's a particular Atlanta Waffle House outside the perimeter that's very close to, well, a dungeon. And when the party's over, people get hungry. Waffle House does not judge.





	Yellow Light Special

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I have actually debated taking this down because I feel really self-conscious about putting this in the middle of so many wonderfully fluffy WaHo fics, especially in the context of how this whole thing started. That's part of the reason I didn't put any actual smut in this, which probably disappointed some people. However, I really do celebrate Waffle House as a place that accepts ANYONE, no matter the time of night, no matter who they are, or what they look like. The fact that when you live in Georgia, there is ALWAYS a Waffle House there for you...it's great, okay? 
> 
> See also: Waffle Houses during Dragon Con.
> 
> Also: note that there's some kink language in here. Mind the tags, even though it's just talking. See some definitions in the end notes.

Rey wrenches the car door open, leaping out of the backseat of Poe’s car, relieved not to be sitting anymore. 

“Dibs!” Rose calls, clambering out of the other side and sprinting for the door. 

“God dammit I should have peed again before we left.” Another car door slams and Poe kills the ignition. “I drink so much friggin’ water after I finish a scene.”

“You seemed to be enjoying it,” Finn says. 

“Phasma’s the best, right? My ass though. I need one those donut pillows.” Rey zips her hoodie, covering her strappy crop top in the cool November air, as Poe catches up to them. 

“Y’all really didn’t want tacos?” he asks. Poe always votes for tacos, but Waffle House is their Old Faithful. No one ever bats an eye when groups of pleather-clad kinksters show up when the dungeon closes. 

Waffle House doesn’t judge. Unlike Chick-Fil-A.

“Nope. I need something scattered, covered, and chunked. Like, now.”

“You took it like a champ, Rey.”

“I still really want to try topping someone,” she says. “Expand my boundaries.”

She’s still a little disoriented, after coming out of the sub space. It was one of her most intense scenes yet and only her second time with Phasma. It had become an impromptu demo for Rose, a noob who’s still learning the ropes. So to speak. 

But someone else had been watching, too. Tall guy. Built. Dark hair, pale skin. A little too dressed up. A little too detached from everything around him. Except for Rey’s scene. 

He hadn’t looked familiar, but her eyes were watering, so… She’s usually too wrapped up in the scene to pay attention to voyeurs. They tend to drift in and out, wandering around the club. But there was something different about the way he watched her. Intense. Really looking at her face, her reactions. He stayed for the whole scene.

But she’d lost track of him during the aftercare routine and that was that. 

_Probably some first-timer. Maybe a kinky girl’s normie boyfriend, tagging along to the dungeon to finally see it for himself._

Finn throws open the door and they head for a booth in the corner. The smell of grease and waffle batter permeates the air. It’s a motley crew as always. People getting off work, a couple sad loners, folks in various stages of drunkenness. Rey’s crew is sober, though. There’s no alcohol at the dungeon. Consent is paramount. 

How these Waffle House employees manage to take care of this assortment of humanity is always a wonder. Rey hadn’t had the most stable upbringing, but the warm, yellow glow of the Waffle House sign always felt like a comfort. It had been a place to go, sometimes for hours, when she was a teenager. You can get a shit ton of food for only a few dollars and stay forever.

As she mindlessly plops down across from Finn and Poe, her ass screams _nooooooo_. 

“Ouch. Fuck!” 

She stands right back up. 

“It’ll be worse tomorrow,” Poe offers, unhelpfully. 

“What’s wrong?” Rose asks, sliding past Rey into the booth. “God, that was the most satisfying pee of my _life_.”

“Rey can’t sit.” Finn nods over to the counter. “You could just stand next to a stool?”

“You want me to eat standing up, by myself?” 

“First of all, don’t you eat dinner standing up at your kitchen counter every night?” _Judgmental!_ “And secondly, are you really ever alone at a Waffle House? Lots of people eat at the counter. Make a new friend.”

Defeated, Rey turns to scope out the counter/stool situation. A couple random loners, both older guys, with whom she does _not_ care to make polite small talk. 

But further down the counter...a man in black. Tall guy, even sitting, Dark hair, pale skin. A little too dressed up for Waffle House. A little too detached from the cacophony inside the restaurant. 

She hangs back, waiting for his kinky girlfriend to emerge from the restroom and ask where her waffle is. 

No one joins him. _It’s enough of a sign._

“Seat taken?”

He turns his head, does the slightest of double takes, and lets his eyes graze over her, bottom to top, stopping at her face. 

“All yours,” he says quietly, in a deep baritone. Three-quarters of a waffle remains on the plate in front of him. She’s starving. Thank God they didn’t go to El Rey del Taco. 

As soon as Rey’s butt hits the inadequate padding of the stool, she yelps. 

“Dammit!”

“Are you okay?” the guy asks, standing up immediately.

“Yeah. I forgot that I came over here because it hurts to sit.”

“Oh.”

“Is this place-to-awkwardly-stand taken?”

“All yours.” He doesn’t sit back down. _So tall._

“You can sit though,” she adds. _Then maybe we’ll be at eye level._ “Unless your ass hurts, too.”

“Mine’s fine.” _Mmm hmm._

He sits back down and rubs a pat of butter over the waffle with his knife.

Rey orders her usual (hash browns covered, chunked, and diced with a pecan waffle) and leans forward against the counter in the best approximation of “casual” she can muster. 

“I guess you know why it hurts.” He turns his head, looking her up and down again. Shamelessly. “You were there right? At the club? Watching me get spanked?”

He doesn’t say anything, but picks up the syrup bottle and lightly coats his waffle, slowly and methodically dripping the syrup in each of the three remaining quadrants.

“I saw you staring,” she continues. “You could have said something. Introduced yourself. Seemed like you disappeared.”

He picks up his fork. 

“Some women don’t like being approached by strange men at a kink club. Maybe you’re the exception.”

“Some women like to approach strange men at Waffle House, though. We don’t have to be strangers. I’m Rey.”

“Ben.”

His fork gently cuts into the waffle. 

“Are you planning to come back sometime? Or did you see enough?”

He looks down at her ass with negative-one degree of subtlety. 

“I definitely didn’t see enough. But I don’t usually go to clubs. I prefer...private parties.”

“Just to watch, or…”

He stabs the bite of waffle with his fork and lifts it up...into her mouth. The butter and syrup melt over her tongue.

“Not just to watch.” She chews on the waffle. Fuck she’s hungry. “Good?”

She nods. It’s the most delicious fucking waffle she’s ever put in her mouth. 

“More?”

“Yes.”

“Yes... _what_?”

Rey’s brain cycles through the possibilities. Yes _sir_? Yes _master_? (She hates that one.) Yes _alpha_? (Goddammit, that’s fanfic.)

_Maybe…_

“Yes, _daddy_.”

He raises his eyebrows. _Too far? Creeped out?_

“You were very good girl tonight.” He cuts off another bite of waffle. “From my vantage point, at least.” 

_Maybe not too far_.

He pops another piece of waffle into her mouth. It’s delicious: Waffle House is some kind of black magic when you’re this hungry. But her mouth is still watering. 

“Do you want to take another look? From a different vantage point?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was going to stop in the restroom and, like, wash my hands or something, so—”

“You know what would really please me?”

“What?”

“You come back from the bathroom, we continue our conversation, you keep calling me daddy, and then you go home—alone—and think about what you want us to do together when you can actually sit again.”

She frowns, definitely not hiding her disappointment.

“So, no interest in bending me over the sink and making me feel...better?”

“If you can’t sit on a padded stool without wincing, there’s no chance in hell you can take what I have in mind.” 

A pleasing shiver rushes up the back of Rey’s neck. 

“Good point.” She debates pushing it further. “But, you know, my knees are just fine.”

She swears he shifts in his seat. 

“You’re still hungry then?”

She nods. 

“Good girls use their words.”

“Yes,” she swallows, “daddy…?” She can’t help but lift the end of the word like a question. She senses it’s unexpected for him, but not unwelcome. This isn’t usually her kink, either.

Ben shoves another bite of waffle onto her tongue.

Or _is_ it?

“That better?”

_Yes. Daddy. Better._

The waitress drops Rey’s plates down on the counter with a light clang. The pecan waffle is a work of art. Pristine. Waiting to be devoured. Wrecked.

She drowns it in syrup as a thought bubble forms over her head.

_Hmmm._

“You know, I feel bad that I ate so much of your waffle.” _A scenario starts to take shape_. _Not everyone is only one thing or another._

“I didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“I liked it. But I have this nice, untouched one now…so maybe we can... _switch_?” 

They exchange a knowing look. 

“Switch?”

She jams her fork into the waffle, cutting off a large piece. 

“ _Your_ ass is fine, after all. Are _you_ still hungry?”

It takes a moment, but he nods.

Rey picks up the bite of pecan waffle with her hand and shoves it into his mouth, letting her fingers linger for an extra second. 

“Think you can take what I could do to you?” she asks. 

He studies her face instead of responding, but she _knows_ what the answer will be. He wants that fucking waffle. 

She’s vaguely aware of Finn and Poe and Rose laughing over some joke in the corner booth, but they might as well be miles away. The counter is where the action is. 

_Jesus fucking Christ the things we could do..._

Two-fourteen a.m. at the counter of an outside-the-perimeter Waffle House is truly a blessed time and place to make a new friend. Who needs tacos?

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually do need tacos and I'm really sorry that I spent over an hour on this.
> 
> Most kink people use the traffic light system as a default for checking in. Thus, the yellow light (and the comforting glow of a Waffle House when everything else is closed).
> 
> Terms, mostly borrowed from [Vice, of all places](https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/3b7ap9/the-hidden-language-of-kinksters). 
> 
> Switch: n. A person who can be dominant and can be submissive, but does not identify as always a dom or always a sub
> 
> Daddy Dom: n. [A dom who is] a little bit more sweet and nurturing, like a tough-love coach at times.”
> 
> Negotiation: n. Before the scene ever starts (a lot of people like to do it a couple days before) people talk as human beings, outside of roles: limits, preferences, that kind of stuff. It can be kind of a seductive, fun, fantasy-filled conversation.
> 
> After-care: n. It’s considered the dom’s responsibility to bring a sub back down to earth at the end, make sure that person is calmed down, caressed, checked in with, [feeling] okay.
> 
> Sub Space: n. Subs sometimes go into an almost ‘out of body’ or hypnagogic state if they get into the role successfully enough.


End file.
